Under The Bridge
by smilelikey0umeanit
Summary: Sandra and Gerry are out for drinks whilst Jack and Brian are off 'gallivanting', but when they disappear, how long will it take them to be found? (Nothing ship-related, just highly dramatic awesomeness. Hopefully.)
1. Sunday Afternoon

**A/N: This is much more action-packed than anything I've done before and to be honest I'm out of my comfort zone, so I really hope this turns out okay. All reviews are welcome x**

**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks.**

"_**And turn the white snow/Red as strawberries in the summertime"**_

"You really need to ditch that shirt, you know." He placed his drink on the glossy wood of the table with force, sloshing some of it over the rim and putting his hand over his burnt plum-shirted chest in mock-offence.

"This is my best shirt and it cost an absolute fortune, I'll have you know. No way am I giving it to Oxfam to rest alongside your skirt-suits that have been there for five years, not a bloody chance. Anyway, it'd clash with them," he sniffed, grinning and taking a proud sip of his pint. Or what was left of it, anyway.

She narrowed her eyes, not being able to deny that she had indeed given the majority of her skirt-suits to Oxfam around that time. "I'm sure someone will have snapped them up by now, they're back in fashion," she smirked, before adding, "I'll have you know."

He rolled his eyes. "What's wrong with it anyway? I thought I looked very suave."

"Yeah, in the seventies," she retorted.

"Alright, alright. I promise I won't wear it in your presence for fear of causing you embarrassment, your majesty." He made a mock salute.

"Good. Did you look through that pile of potential cases on Friday?" she asked, bringing the conversation to the almost inevitable topic of work.

"Yeah, why?"

"Strickland was supposed to drop me off a case file on Friday evening, he said it was urgent. The victim's daughter is about to move to Spain so I said we'd make a start interviewing her on Monday morning, once I'd looked at the file over the weekend, but he never gave me it."

"Strange. We don't want a bloody repeat of Gibraltar, no way am I having one of those monkeys trash my room again. Come to think of it, he was probably stuck in a meeting about yesterday night's match, you know what it's like when there's a London derby in the footie, half the city turn into hooligans."

"Including you." She replied, one eyebrow raised.

"Nah, I'm getting too old for that game. Settling down in front of the telly with a pint is more my style," he said, stretching in his chair, "Anyway, I'm off outside for a fag, its bloody roasting in here."

"Okay," she said, checking her phone for messages. She'd half expected one from Strickland about the file, but there was only one from Esther, asking if she wanted to come for dinner on Wednesday evening after work. She marvelled at how Esther could be so organised even when she and Brian were staying at her sister's in Bournemouth for the weekend. She replied with a resounding yes and made a mental note to buy a bottle of wine to take.

Gerry's phone beeped where he had left it on the table opposite her, with the same message from Esther. She chuckled. If that was how carelessly he left his phone laying around, no wonder his relationships didn't last. Mind you, he hadn't really had many relationships recently, or at least none that he'd mentioned to her. Maybe he'd finally run out of his relentless optimism when it came to finding love. She didn't quite know how she felt about that- on one hand, it was probably a good thing that he'd given up chasing women, it was beginning to get undignified. On the other, he was the last person who deserved to grow old without someone beside him. Yes, he had his family, and she wouldn't be surprised if he ended up back with Jayne, but still…he was the type of person who needed someone.

She took another sip of her wine, running her finger around the rim of the glass. Bloody hell Gerald, she thought with a hint of annoyance, take your time why don't you? She wanted another round, and she'd be damned if she was paying again, especially when he'd invited her out. Jack had gone golfing and Brian was away, or 'gallivanting', as Gerry had put it, so he'd taken her out for a drink so they wouldn't both be sat at home watching crappy TV. Quite sweet of him really. He must be getting soft in his old age.

She sighed, waiting for another five minutes before grabbing her bag and his phone. He was probably talking to some dodgy mate of his, but he was seriously taking the piss now. She made her way through the crowded pub to the door, pushing it open and instantly enjoying the breeze of fresh autumn air on her face. She turned to her right, walking to the side of the traditional red brick building where she knew the smoker's area was. The sun coming through the trees surrounding the pub was making her squint, but she definitely couldn't see him amongst the group of people.

"Where are you, Gerald?" she muttered. The prat had probably gone back inside whilst she was out looking for him. She walked a little further around the building to the staff car park at the back, but it was deserted except from a few cars and a white van. She turned around to take one last look in the smoker's area before heading back inside where he would undoubtedly be sitting with that jammy smirk on his face, knowing that he'd just made her walk on gravel in heels.

"Sandra!" She heard a familiar voice shout from somewhere behind her, and she turned to see who it was. As she looked towards the car park to find the person who belonged to the voice, she sensed someone moving, close behind her. She whipped around in confusion, hearing the sickening crack of her own head against a metal bar a fraction too late to do anything about it. The last thing she saw was the splashes of scarlet blood on the grey pieces of gravel, as red as summer strawberries in the snow, before she slipped into oblivion.

_**A/N: I can't promise that updates will be quick, if you want me to continue, but I'll try my best.**_


	2. Limbo

_**A/N: This is just a filler chapter really, but it was more difficult for me to write for some reason. I'm aware that I've thrown a bit of a spanner in the works here. Don't know if it'll pay off, but I hope so! Reviews are more than welcome as always x**_

She'd woken up briefly, long enough to know that she was in a moving vehicle and to smell Gerry's aftershave strongly enough that she knew he was with her, although she couldn't see him due to the material that was simultaneously blindfolding her and hurting her head where she'd been hit. She estimated that was about two hours ago, but she couldn't be sure. All she could be sure of at the moment was that her head was absolutely killing her and that she was lying in a very uncomfortable bed. The springs were sticking into her back and she could feel a throbbing sensation behind her eyes. She was pretty sure she had been bleeding; her hair was sticky and matted against her face, and she could smell the strong metallic scent of it.

This time though, she was sure that Gerry was with her. She could feel his arm against hers, providing her with some much-needed warmth, and she could hear his light breathing so closely that she could almost imagine his chest rising and falling next to her. She'd be able to see it, if she could just open her eyes, which were finally free of the blindfold. But that would mean fighting, fighting against the huge temptation to just give up, and she wasn't strong enough for that right now. No, she would stay here for a while, in this…limbo, she guessed it was, a place where she could smell and hear and feel the real world but just couldn't be a part of it.

Christ, they must have hit him hard. Really hard. He didn't think he had lapsed into consciousness before now. No, he thought carefully, this was definitely the first time he'd been awake, because he had absolutely no idea where the hell he was or how the hell he'd got here. All he remembered was somehow ending up in the car park of the pub, being whacked over the head from behind, and then…nothing. He mentally sighed in frustration. It was a struggle these days just to keep his mind active when he was conscious, never mind in this half-consciousness, or whatever it was.

Gradually though, his senses became more attuned to his surroundings, and he could feel someone next to him. The smell of their heavy perfume filled his nostrils. It was definitely a woman but he just couldn't place the scent, although it was certainly familiar to him.

After what felt like forever attempting to hear something, smell something that would give him an indication where he was, he heard a tap turn on somewhere, perhaps in the next room. Maybe his attackers were still here. Shit. Still, they probably thought he was out cold, seen as he couldn't even summon the energy he needed to open his eyes.

He'd been here for three days now, judging by the dimming glow of the sun, barely visible through the window that had no real view, other than some old bricks. He had spent a lot of time wondering what the purpose of this window was, seen as it was located in a cellar beneath the ground, and the only conclusion he could surmise was that the cellar had been used as a kitchen in the old days. The house was definitely old, maybe even Victorian, based on the bricks and the overwhelming stench of damp emanating from the black mould in the corners, which seemed to be seeping further into the whitewashed walls every day. He mentally berated himself for spending so much time thinking about his surroundings rather than focusing on his main goal- getting out of here. Still, when you had three days locked in a room by yourself, with no company and no access to the outside world, you could be forgiven for meandering in your thought process.

The kitchen theory would at least explain the presence of the ancient yet still useable sink against the wall, where he was currently washing the blood out of a towel he had been handed by his captors, with hurried instructions to 'clean up these two'. 'These two', he had been surprised to find, were Gerry and Sandra, being practically thrown on to the bed in the centre of the room unconscious and covered in blood. He'd desperately yet gently tried to rouse them, but to no avail. It hadn't taken him long to realise that they'd both sustained pretty bad head injuries, and he'd used both the towel and his own shirt in an attempt to stem their bleeding, which had finally been successful after about twenty minutes.

His captors had been fairly generous so far, as kidnappers go. He'd rationed the first pack of cheap biscuits they'd thrown down the stairs on the first evening, and he was surprised when another came the following morning. This led him to believe that he was here through no fault of his own, although they had given him similar treatment to Sandra and Gerry. His head finally had stopped throbbing earlier today, but the swelling was still prominent. A soft noise came from the bed, and he peered around anxiously. Sandra was turning in her sleep, her eyebrows knotted into a deep frown from the pain. God, he needed some painkillers, bandages, disinfectant, anything to help them. It was probably a good thing that Sandra was stirring, but Gerry...nothing.

He lifted the saturated towel from the sink. It still had a faint brown tint from the blood, but at least it was relatively clean. Quietly, he wringed the water out of it and took it over to the bed, cleaning the remainder of the blood from Gerry's face and using the other side to gently wash some of Sandra's matted hair, delicately returning each strand to its former golden shine. She began to stir again and he withdrew, not wanting to wake her before she was ready. He returned to the sink to repeat the process, thankful for at least having clean running water. Immersing the towel in it, he watched as the blood was released in small red-brown clouds which slowly diffused outwards. It was strangely beautiful, if you didn't think about what it was.


	3. Monday Morning Blues

_**A/N: Thankfully this was much easier for me to write than the last chapter, hope you enjoy it! The reviews are very much appreciated, keep 'em coming :D**_

_**See Chapter One for disclaimer.**_

The office seemed strangely quiet, Jack observed, as he pushed open the door and placed his coat on the empty stand. He walked forward, peering into Sandra's office. Empty. Strange, she was usually here by quarter to nine, either over in the little kitchen area making coffee or at her desk checking her emails. There was no sign of Gerry either, but then he would probably saunter in at half past nine, hungover from yesterday's drinking session with Sandra. And where the hell was Brian? He'd gone away for the weekend with Esther, but surely they'd be back by now? He sat behind his desk, taking his mobile from his suit pocket and squinting as he scrolled through the list of numbers to find Sandra's name. As was just about to call her, the phone on his desk, making him jump in the silence.

He sighed, reaching to pick it up. Either it was Gerry phoning to say he was ill, or Sandra to say she was stuck in traffic, or Brian to say… he'd been abducted by aliens. That was probably the most logical conclusion where Brian was involved, to be honest.

"Jack Halford speaking?"

"Finally, I've bloody rung three times," the familiar Northern accent said, almost relieved. "Where've you been? And where's Sandra and Gerry?"

"Where the bloody hell are you, more's to the point?"

"I'm ill. Ate some dodgy fish and chips yesterday at Esther's sister's place and I've been on the loo ever since. I wanted to come in but Esther said I'd better stay at home, you know, just in case-"

"Alright, alright Brian, that's quite enough information thank you very much." Jack cut him off before the inevitable happened and he wouldn't be able to face his coffee. "I take it you've not heard from Gerry or Sandra then?"

"No, I rung Sandra a couple of times but no reply, not on the office phone or her mobile. You don't think Gerry's lead her astray and got her completely pissed do you?" Brian asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Maybe, but she wouldn't have got drunk when she knew she'd got work the next day. Besides, she can hold her drink much better than Gerry," Jack reasoned, growing more and more worried by the minute.

"Hmm, that's true. Probably nothing to worry about, she's probably just stuck in traffic or her phone's died or something. Listen mate, I'd better go, I'm still not feeling too good,"

"Alright, I'll let you know when they show up."

"Cheers mate, bye."

"Bye," Jack said faintly, his seasoned detective brain working on the borders of frantically. He placed the phone down gently, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. He hadn't got back from golfing until fairly late last night, so he was probably just tired, over emotional…

The high-pitched ringing of the phone made him instantly sit up, grabbing the receiver with some force.

"Sandra?"

"Uh, no, sir, but we've been trying to call you for some time now." 

"Who is this?" he asked, sitting back in his chair dejectedly and placing his hand over his eyes once again.

"DC Holt, sir. When was the last time you saw either Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman or your colleague Gerry Standing?"

"Last Friday night, at the pub after work," Jack replied quickly, his mind now racing with all the possibilities. He knew that tone, the one where you had to break bad news to a relative, he'd been a detective for forty years for heaven's sake, he'd done it hundreds of times. "Why do you ask?"

"Yesterday evening, we received an eyewitness report of a blonde woman matching DS Pullman's description being hit over the head with some sort of metal instrument. More witnesses saw a van speeding away from the scene of the attack. We haven't been able to trace her since so we are assuming that her attackers have…taken her." The detective sighed, leaving a lingering silence as Jack's mind struggled to comprehend what he was hearing. "Can I confirm that you haven't seen her since Friday night, sir?"

"Yes, that's correct. How do you know it was definitely her? And how do you know that they've taken Gerry as well?" Jack was trying his best to be rational, but all that he could surmise were the two most important questions firing around his mind.

"We found some blood at the scene, we tested it for DNA overnight and the results came back this morning. The blood was from DS Pullman. We also found some signs of a struggle: there was a blood spatter on the ground in a separate area: that blood belonged to Mr Standing. Also, the gravel was heavily disturbed, and there was a pack of cigarettes on the ground, probably dropped in the struggle."

"Jesus, Sandra." Of course Gerry was one of his most valued friends, but the rush of paternal feelings he felt for Sandra at that moment overwhelmed him. The thought of her lying on the ground out in the cold and then being dragged in to a van and taken God knows where…He needed to do something to help. Quickly. He gritted his teeth and grabbed a whiteboard pen from his desk, putting the phone on loudspeaker.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, sir-" The younger detective began to apologise.

"I know you are, kid, but it's not your fault. I just want them both found as quickly as possible, you got that? I want the best officers on the case, draft in as many as possible, whatever, just get them found." Jack cut him off. He was rapidly turning his panic into fire, giving him the strength he needed to take action.

"Of course, sir, whatever it takes."

"Right. Who were the witnesses? Have you got statements?" he asked, already writing the details up on the whiteboard.

"That's one of the main problems- the witnesses of the attack were two children, aged nine and ten, playing in the car park at the scene. They saw DS Pullman being hit and they ran away, back into the building. The witnesses who saw the van were all adults, in the smoker's area, but none of them got a definite view of the number plate, it sped away too fast. We've got as many statements as possible but the kids didn't really say much of use, they were scared."

"Right." This was getting worse by the second. "Can we trace the van on CCTV or speed cameras?"

"I've got someone on it right now, sir, should take a couple of hours though. I'll let you know as soon as we get anything."  
That was progress, at least, the optimistic side of his brain reassured him. Holt seemed to know what he was doing, and him, well. He would find more leads if it was the last thing he did.

"You should stop calling me sir and start calling me Jack, DC Holt, I get the sense that we'll be working together a lot."


	4. Waking Up

_**A/N: This was another difficult one to write, but at least I've found out that listening to Green Day helps. Hopefully this will clear up some of the mysteries from the previous time and maybe create some more…Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**_

The thin ray of winter sun filtering through the only section of the small, grimy window where the sky was actually visible was the first thing that awoke Sandra from her much needed, yet troubled sleep. She was confused for a moment, her mind struggling to catch up with the events of the previous day. She sighed softly as the pain in her head began again with full force, and she turned over in discomfort, carefully opening her eyes.

She thought about last night, who she had found when she woke up, what she had learnt. All of the unanswered questions which were still whirling around her mind like a wild summer storm.

Her return into the real world began with the sound of running water somewhere a couple of metres away, she guessed. Her senses had started to wake up, to recognise sounds that were further away than Gerry's slow breathing next to her. She knew there must be someone else there. She had considered the possibility of it being whoever had put them here in the first place, but then why would they be walking around quietly? She could barely hear their footsteps on the cold stone floor. And why were they still here? It was dark now, she could tell even with her eyes closed. Presumably they had a door that locked to stop them getting out, surely they wouldn't have someone here to keep an eye on them all the time. If they did they must be pretty crap kidnappers. Maybe eventually she and Gerry could break out if it was two against one. No, they must have a locked door somewhere. But then why were they still here? Ugh. She was still drowsy, her mind was far from its usual state.

She decided to wait for a while longer, listening to the person move around the room to pick up some hints about who it was. They seemed to be busy, washing something in water and wringing it out. The water splashing back into the sink was the loudest sound she'd heard since she'd emerged from her state of unconsciousness; it hurt her head. Suddenly though, the light footsteps began to move closer and closer to her. She was almost thankful until she realised that they were going around the other side of the bed, to Gerry. She heard the footsteps stop, felt the draught of air as the person leant over Gerry, even smelt their scent. Oh god, what were they going to do to him?

She needed to stop them, to open her eyes and use all her strength to push them away. With all her energy focused on this one task, she practically forced her eyelids apart and sat up suddenly, her head spinning from the sudden change in atmosphere. What she saw when she opened her eyes made her head spin even more, although this time it was in shock.

The man standing above Gerry was tall, with dark hair, but instead of being the intimidating thug she had expected, he could only be described as…a mess. He looked like he had gone unshaven for days, and there were huge dark circles around his eyes, indicating that he had only had minimal sleep. Perhaps the most disturbing thing, though, was the patch of blood on his vest, which seemed faint, as though it had seeped through from his shirt, which was nowhere to be seen. Their eyes locked for a moment, both of them frozen in some sort of twisted tableau, as she worked out where she had seen those familiar blue eyes before. No, it couldn't be him. He moved his head ever so slightly, responding to the flicker of recognition he must have seen in her eyes, as if to confirm her suspicions.

"Robert?"

He nodded again, fully this time, dropping his eyes to the floor to avoid her questioning gaze. He returned to tending Gerry, wiping the remainder of the blood from his hair and making sure that his head was in a comfortable position.

She cleared her throat gently, marveling at how croaky her voice had become yet trying not to cough for fear of the pain at the back of her head increasing in its intensity.

"Are you at least going to tell me what's going on? Why we're here? How we got here? Who it is that's keeping us here?" she stopped herself releasing anymore of the deluge of questions filling her mind, in case she overwhelmed him. She didn't know how much he knew, at any rate, and she didn't want to make herself sound ungrateful for the care he had obviously given her and Gerry.

He took a deep breath, returning his eyes to the floor again. "Sandra, you have to believe me when I say that I don't know anything. I was brought here in the same way as you- I was hit over the head from behind and I woke up in that bed," he nodded to where she was sitting, her back already beginning to ache. "They bring food every morning, it's not much, but it's enough to survive on. From that I can only guess that they want to keep us alive, or else they'd starve us. Either that, or they're waiting for something. They wear balaclavas when they're here, so I've never seen any of their faces, but from what I can judge, there's two different men, one about six foot, the other shorter."

She nodded, concerned about him. His appearance portrayed what he had been through over the past few days, and to go through it alone too… It was selfish, but she was thankful she had both Gerry and Robert with her. She turned to look at Gerry, softly running her head over his cheek. His breathing was still shallow, and some bruises had developed on his face. He must have fought them.

"Do you think he'll wake up soon?" she asked, looking to Robert for reassurance. He knew how long it had taken her to wake up, maybe he could make an estimation for Gerry.

"I hope so. I've done everything I can considering the circumstances, but it just depends on the person I suppose."

"Hmm, I suppose so." She continued to stroke his cheek subconsciously, wondering if he could hear them speak. "Come on Gerald," she almost whispered, leaning closer to him, "Wake up, we need you. I need you."

When she lifted her head up, Rob was smiling at them. "He'll come round, Sandra. I'm sure of it."

"I know," she mustered a smile and directed it at him. "You still haven't answered my question. Why are we here, Rob?"

He met her gaze directly. "I've been thinking a lot, since I've been here, and I honestly cannot think of anything that would give someone the motive to do this. I'm so sorry Sandra."

_**A/N: Please don't boycott this because I've decided to feature Rob in it. He may yet be the reason for the kidnap…**_


	5. Temptation

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Thank you to all of you who've been reviewing and who follow my stories, you give me so much confidence x**_

_**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**_

Gerry had been stirring since morning. She'd been sitting by his side ever since, constantly talking to him about everything except them being held hostage, in an attempt to reassure him that he was safe to wake up, if he could. Although, safe probably wasn't the best way to describe their situation at the moment.

The daily allowance of food had been thrown down the stairs earlier, and she and Rob had eaten a small share, making sure to leave the majority of it for Gerry when he awoke. She had been tempted to look up the stairs, to where Rob had told her there was simply a locked door, but she knew that would make her even more desperate to get out of here than she already was, and, in turn, even more frustrated at their situation. No, she needed to keep a cool head, for all their sakes. For some reason, she recalled a quote she'd come across whilst at university. _'I can resist everything except temptation'_. Well, she'd be damned if she tempted herself in the first place.

"Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe a different voice will help," Rob suggested, snapping her out of her reverie. He had been practically a saint compared to her, washing them clean of blood and helping her to adjust to the strange existence they had here. Still, she couldn't help but to hesitate at his offer. He wasn't exactly Gerry's favourite person, he had the potential to set him on edge and make him less likely to wake up. Although she had explained to him that Rob was a hostage alongside them, and that he wasn't here to harm them as she had initially assumed.

She became aware that Rob had dropped eye contact.

"Sorry, that probably wasn't the best of ideas. Carry on," he apologised, returning to pacing around the room.

"No, actually, it's a good idea. Give it a try," she said, switching places with him so that she was stood up, leaning against the cold stonewashed wall for support. She had made so much progress in such a short space of time, in terms of her injury, transforming from a state of unconsciousness back to her former self. Her head was still hurting but not as much, and she could stand up properly without her head spinning, as it had done during the first few attempts.

It had just occurred to her that Gerry loved nothing more than to moan about the upper-class idiots from upstairs, Rob included, so maybe he would provoke Gerry into waking up. There had been a glimmer of hope when he'd begun to stir earlier, but since then, nothing. She realised how alert her senses were, how she noticed practically every movement that her two companions made, how she instantly picked up on changes in Gerry's breathing even when she was at the other side of the room. Still, when you were living in a single room every hour of every day, you probably grew to notice these things more.

Suddenly, a sharp cough made her head snap up and focus her vision in on Gerry. Rob met her eyes instantly in panic, moving away to give the waking older man some space. He was continuing to cough, his face adopting a pained expression. She knew he needed space, but at that moment she couldn't help but to rush to him.

"Gerry, Gerry, its okay, shh. You're going to be fine," she soothed him, stroking his arm in an attempt to relax him. His coughing fit abated a little, mercifully, and she saw his eyes flicker open for a brief second. "Rob, help me to sit him up please." He responded immediately, lifting him gently whilst keeping his neck straight so he could breathe fully. Gerry coughed once more before taking a long, deep breath, as though trying to draw in as much air as possible. She exchanged a nervous look with Rob, the tension growing unbearable.

She was just about to tell Rob to return him to his original position when a voice croaked: "Sandra?" and the blue of Gerry's eyes was slowly revealed as he prised his heavy eyelids open.

"I'm here, you're alright, I'm here," she replied, properly smiling for the first time since that seemingly distant afternoon when Gerry had taken her out for drinks. Tears of joy came to her eyes as he sat up on his own.

"Steady on, just one thing at a time, yeah? Are you feeling okay?" she asked.

"Uhh…yeah, I suppose. My head's bloody banging but that's about it." He replied, clearing his throat.

She took hold of his hand, relieved that he didn't seem to be showing any signs of permanent damage. Just that he had finally woken up was enough.

"Bloody hell, Sandra, you trying to kill me again or what?"

She paused, confused, following his gaze to where she was holding his hand, suddenly realising that they were still cut and bruised from where he must have tried to fight off his assailants. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm developing a habit of doing that to you," she laughed, picking up on his smirk as she gently rested his hand on the bed beside him.

"S'alright, Guv, I'll live. I always do."

"I know, you have an unfortunate knack of escaping the worst. That's why I keep you on the team, imagine all the paperwork I'd have to do if you were easy to bump off," she grinned.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you I have nine lives then innit?" he winked, before turning his attention to Rob, then back to Sandra. "Why is he here by the way?"

"He's in the same boat as us I'm afraid, only he's been here longer, has it been a few days for you now?" she asked the younger man.

"Yeah, four days now." He replied with a small smile. She'd picked up on the fact that he was hiding his emotions, either that or he really was as boring as he pretended to be at work. She knew that wasn't really the case though. Over the years she'd seen small glimmers of his real personality come through the mask of his ponce-in-a-suit act.

"We would have realised, you know. Me, Gerry, Jack, Brian. We would have realised that you were missing. We would have done something about it." She said frankly. She'd experienced the same loneliness that he must feel, in the days before UCOS. Nobody would have realised for days that she was gone either, and that thought made her sick to the stomach.

"I know you would. Thank you." He said, mustering a smile. She smiled back softly, understanding how much her words meant to him.

"Sandra?" Gerry's voice returned her attention back to the man next to her.

"Yeah?"

"Why are we here? What have we done?" he obviously had as many questions as she did when she'd first awoken. She still didn't know the answer to most of them.

"Honestly, I have no idea. Neither does Rob. I guess we'll just have to wait and see." She sighed, leaning in to rest her head lightly on his chest. "We'll be okay though, I promise."

**_A/N: Ten points to anyone who knows who the temptation quote is by._**


	6. On The Case

_**A/N: I find the chapters from Jack's perspective easier to write once I get going, hence why this is rather long! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**_

_**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**_

"Right, so that's that all finished," Jack muttered to himself as he completed the whiteboard, more efficiently than he had ever done it before. It was a clichéd line from action films, but this time it was serious. This time it involved two of the people he cared about most in the world, and he would get them back to him if it was the last thing he did. He turned around from his position at the whiteboard, facing the busy office around him. Surprisingly, DC Holt had been instructed to move to the UCOS office with his colleagues for the duration of the case. People rarely came down here, and the current hive of activity was definitely a contrast to the quiet efficiency of the UCOS team, but it pleased him. It meant that people were taking action against the forces of opposition which had taken two members of the Met, it meant that for once, they were all working towards a common cause. No politics, no box-ticking, just good old-fashioned detective work.

"Jack?" a voice came from somewhere amongst the ringing phones and rustling of papers. He quickly located its source.

"Holt?"

"We've got a positive ID on the van that was seen driving away from the scene. It was picked up on a CCTV camera briefly but we've managed to zoom in on the number plate."

"And?"

"It's registered to a Gary Welch, all we know at the moment is his basic details but we're looking into him before we go charging in."

"Alright. Good work, keep at it." He sat down heavily in his chair. He felt helpless now that he'd completed the whiteboard. Even though he had probably served in the force before some of these youngsters were even born, he didn't want to get in the way. UCOS investigated cold cases, not current ones, although they had an unfortunate habit of turning into car chases and the like. Still, they rarely experienced the same urgency as this, day-to-day.

What could he do now? He decided to go to Strickland, to get a warrant in case they needed to search this Gary Welch's house.

"Holt, I'm going to DAC Strickland to get a warrant in case we need it for Welch's place. Let me know straight away if there's any developments." He instructed the younger man, before departing the room. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Strickland so far today. He'd have presumed that he'd have been all over this like a rash, especially seen as Sandra was involved. He'd always had something of a soft spot for Sandra. Frankly, it unnerved and annoyed him in equal measures. Still, everyone had a bit of a soft spot for Sandra, it was unavoidable.

He realised that his musings had taken him to Strickland office door. He knocked, louder than he normally would. Nothing. He knocked again, with even more force. Still nothing. Where the hell was he? Perhaps he was in a meeting, but surely he'd have at least called when he heard the news, one of the young PCs in the office had said that the whole station had heard about it. Just to be certain, he knocked one more time before striding back down to the UCOS basement.

He had just stepped out of the lift when he was confronted by a frantic Brian.

"I got your phone call, I got Esther to drop me off 'ere as fast as possible, what the bloody hell's goin' on?" His Northern accent was emphasised by the speed of his breathing, clearly he had just run down the stairs as a quicker alternative than taking the lift.

"Exactly what I told you, we haven't got anything else yet. Except the number plate of the van has been traced back to a Gary Welch, they're looking into his records now to see if there's anything of interest before we go in all guns blazing."

"Why aren't we doing all this?" Brian asked, peering through the window at the hubbub that the office had been transformed into. "Who the bloody hell's that, sat at my desk? The cheeky little sod, if he moves my stapler I'll have him."

"Brian, I said he could…" Jack shouted in vain. He had already stormed into the office and demanded that the young dark-haired computer expert vacate his desk, his arms gesticulating wildly, much to the alarm of the surrounding group of people.

"Don't worry about him, just do what he says. He gets a bit obsessive when he hasn't taken his medication," Jack announced, only to be met with a dry look from Brian.

"Alright, alright, I take the hint," he said, taking his bottle of pills from his pocket and swallowing a couple, looking defensively at the team who weren't used to his antics.

"Right everyone, we have more pressing tasks to complete here. Has anybody got anything new that they'd like to share?"

Holt, acting as the unofficial spokesperson, stood up. "So far, we've established that the van belongs to a Gary Welch, thirty four years old, married, two children, lives about two miles away from the pub where DS Pullman and Gerry Standing were taken. We've completed our initial search into Welch's records, his bank account, his criminal record, etcetera. It appears as though he is a normal person, he has no convictions other than a speeding ticket from 2007 and his finances are all in order. At the moment, it appears that he is nothing more than the getaway driver, although this is still to be proven. I would suggest that we find the current location of the van, search it and conduct forensics on it. It's unlikely that the hostages are still in the van but it may give us some fresh leads to work on." He nodded to the group and sat down, looking to Jack for confirmation of his plan.

"Thank you Holt, excellent work. I agree that we need to find the van, there's a definite possibility that it will lead to some further clues. Keep going everyone."

He sighed as he settled down in his armchair beside the fire, facing the forever empty chair that Mary once occupied. "It's been a long day love. I know you're worried about Gerry and Sandra, so am I. Don't panic though, love, we'll find them, I promise."

He hadn't wanted to come home, but Holt had pointed out that he would be no good trying to function without sleep tomorrow, if they found the van. Eventually he and Brian had conceded, and returned home for some well-deserved sleep, having written down their phone numbers for use in the event of a breakthrough. The thought of Sandra and Gerry locked in a dark, cold room all night was plaguing him. They were both strong individuals, undoubtedly, but anyone would be afraid when placed in their situation. He knew from years of working with them that they both hated to be cooped up inside for long periods of time, when they were working a long case they often went outside, if only for a moment to get some air. That was another thing, Gerry would probably be going crazy without his cigs. He only hoped that they would be able to stick together, where ever they were.

The sudden shrill ringing of his home phone disturbed him from his thoughts, of which he was somewhat glad. He needed to focus on resting so he could find his friends. He moved as quickly as he could to reach the phone and placed it to his ear, already pre-empting bad news.

"Hello?"

"Jack, it's DC Holt, I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour but…"

"Just get on with it, Holt." The younger man's voice hadn't taken the sympathetic tone which was commonly adopted to deliver bad news, but Jack knew that Holt wouldn't have called if there wasn't a good reason. He seemed like a good bloke, and he had proved his worth today.

"We've tracked down the van, sir, we're searching it now. It was parked on the edges of Epping Forest."

"That's miles away, clearly they didn't want us to find it easily. Anything else?"

"Well our preliminary search shows some blood trailing in and out of the van, so they've obviously been moved at some point. The blood isn't spattered so we don't think they've been assaulted again, it's consistent with them laying in the back of the van and their wounds bleeding, at least at first glance anyway. That's about all, obviously we're conducting forensics now. DNA swabs are being sent off to the lab as we speak and we've brushed for fingerprints."

"Alright. Thank you. Let me know if there's anything else, and make sure you tell Mr Lane. Goodnight."

He put the receiver down gently. "See Mary, everyone is doing a good job. We'll have them found in no time. Sleep tight sweetheart."

He turned out the light in the living room and closed the door gently, hoping that tomorrow would be a brighter day than this one.


	7. Vicious Circle

_**A/N: This chapter ends rather abruptly, sorry.**_

_**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**_

As the time steadily drained away, like watching sand drain through an hourglass, she began to appreciate her everyday life more and more. It was the little things here that were bothering her. Even the sleeping arrangements were awkward. Trying to fit three grown adults comfortably into a double bed would be difficult enough at the best of times but when you added in the factor that those three people weren't particularly relaxed about sharing a bed at the best of times, it was almost impossible.

Still, they'd managed. Last night, the temperature had plummeted from just about bearable in the daytime to absolutely freezing at night. Thankfully, their body heat had kept them warm, but Sandra sympathised with Rob, who had spent two nights here alone. She never failed to be amazed at the capacity people had for adapting, surviving, coping. She, Gerry and Rob were no different. Already they had constructed something resembling a daily routine, which she was grateful for. Wake up, food thrown down the stairs, share out the food, eat the food, have a walk around the room, sit on the bed, think until your thoughts ran in a cycle… Most of their time was spent like this- either pacing or sat on the bed, mostly in silence, occasionally broken by the odd observation or possible reason for their capture.

Over the past few hours, her thoughts had wandered to her mother. Normally Grace was someone who didn't take centre stage in her day-to-day musings. That sounded heartless, but it was for both of their sakes. Thinking about what they'd been through what only make her angry, frustrated that she couldn't change the past, and she would take out that anger on Grace. Which meant she would get twice the insults, twice the hurtful comments, twice the twisted stories thrown right back at her. She wondered if Jack had told Grace. He would have to tell her eventually, if this went on indefinitely, but for the meantime she didn't know whether he would tell her, for fear of upsetting her. She'd been worried that Jack wouldn't realise they were missing, but of course he would. Hopefully he and Brian were on the case. Maybe they'd even found the van by now, surely someone must have seen it leaving the pub?

She was distracted from her contemplation by the raised voices of her companions. She looked up wearily to see them both stood up, facing each other in an opposing stance. They paused from their argument and turned to her, almost ashamed that they had disturbed her.

"For the last time," she began quietly, her voice taking an almost menacing tone, "will you two stop bloody arguing other pathetic things? Gerry, I really don't give a shit if you're craving nicotine, you shouldn't have got addicted in the first place so it's your own bloody fault, stop taking it out on us because it's not fair. Rob, just…stop provoking him, alright? Sit apart from each other, I don't care, whatever, just shut it so I can think."

Both men sighed, moving away from each other as she had instructed. This constant arguing really had been getting on her nerves. First it was about who should go on what side of the bed, then who should get the most food…it was driving her crazy. She'd said it before, numerous times in fact, men were just overgrown children. And now her point had been proved.

* * *

Jack had woken early that morning. He'd had a satisfying rest, and he was now ready to return to the office to begin the day's work. With any luck, the results of the forensics on the van should be back by late morning, and they should receive a warrant from another DAC in the event that Welch's property should need to be searched. He still hadn't received any form of communication from Strickland, and truth be told, he was beginning to get worried. The man was bordering on meticulous: his holidays were always planned well in advance, his paperwork was always done, he was hardly ever late, so why the unexplained absence? The thought had briefly flitted across his mind that perhaps he had been taken too, but that would be ambitious of the culprit, to take a DAC. That really would garner attention from the highest reaches of the Met. Or was that their plan, to kidnap two of the Met's finest officers to make a statement? No, no, his mind was running away with itself. He needed to keep his feet on the ground if he was going to be any use today. He gathered his keys and coat from the hallway and stepped out into the gusty autumn morning, russet leaves blowing around his path. He was just about to lock the door when he heard the faint ringing of his phone from behind the frosted glass panel, and he quickly moved to answer it, again experiencing the sickly feeling of dread. Phones were strange things, he mused. You could never be certain what news the person on the other end would bring.

"Hello, Jack Halford?"

"It's DC Holt, we've got back some of the initial results from the lab."

"Go on,"

"We found signs of another person other than DS Pullman and Mr Standing in the back of the van, there were different fingerprints, clothes fibres and the like."

"Who is it? Someone we know?"

Holt sighed. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it's DAC Strickland."

Jack paused, shocked. His instincts had been right after all. This meant it was something bigger than UCOS then, something that involved the whole Met.

"I'll be in right away. Send officers to Strickland's house, look for any signs of him being taken. Thank you Holt."

He put the phone down and placed his head in his hands, leaning on the telephone table for support.

"Oh Mary, this is worse than I thought."

* * *

She was bloody sick of this too. They'd been over it a thousand times. The same conversation each and every time. 'Have you pissed anyone off recently? Families of victims, friends of victims, potential suspects, witnesses?' 'Not that I'm aware of.' 'What about months, years ago even? They might just have been released from prison and want revenge?' 'We're police officers, it's our job to put criminals in prison, it's an occupational hazard.' 'Yeah, you might know that if you actually did some proper police work for once' 'Shut up Gerry.' 'What about before you joined UCOS, when you were in the murder squad?' 'I can't remember, and even if I could, why would they wait until now? And why would they go to the trouble of taking you and Gerry if they just wanted me?'


	8. Curiouser and Curiouser

_**A/N: Okay, so I've decided to jump forward in time with this. I'm sorry if you feel short-changed: it wasn't how I intended this to pan out, but real life keeps getting in the way. This switches to Sandra's perspective briefly.**_

_**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**_

Three days had passed since they'd made the discovery that Strickland had also been kidnapped, alongside Gerry and Sandra. Two days since they'd searched Gary Welch's house, only to find nothing. They'd questioned him too, for hours, but still nothing. Also, the more detailed forensics report had come back from the lab. It definitely showed that the three of them had been in the van due to the DNA and blood samples, yet the evidence hinted that Strickland was taken before Sandra and Gerry. This made him even more worried.

However, it had been just one day since they'd discovered that Gary Welch related to the disgraced former Chief Superintendent of the Metropolitan police, George Hartnell, albeit by blood. They hadn't flagged this fact up as important, at first. Probably due to their restored faith in good old-fashioned detective work, as he called it, invigorated by the collaboration between the remaining members of UCOS and the team belonging to DC Holt. The atmosphere in the office had become almost electric at times, as they made breakthrough after breakthrough, minds converging to join up the dots of the case. Truth be told, he hadn't felt like this for a while. It made him feel guilty, but the cases that UCOS took on weren't like this. Of course they were still important, but they were small-scale, often selected by chance from a mountain of files in the Met archive. They could usually wait. This one though, this was different. Huge in comparison. Urgent. For the first time since Mary had been taken from him, he felt truly alive.

* * *

She really should not have done that. Under no circumstances should she have walked up the stairs and looked at the door. But, of course, being typically, fatally human, she had. They'd tried to stop her. She didn't listen. She'd walked up the stairs slowly, all twelve of them, one at a time. She'd stood facing the white door, examining the miniscule notches in the wood, the tiny flakes of paint peeling away and falling to the floor like snowflakes. But worst of all, she'd touched the door handle. Felt the smooth metal under her skin, pulling her hand away as she was almost stung by the icy cold. Been just an inch away from freedom, fresh air, light, proper food, warmth. So close. Of course, the door was locked and bolted. Even so, she could clearly imagine herself opening the door, walking through it, standing in the sunlight that she could see through the narrow gap between the door and the frame. It was ironic that the door was white. It reminded her of the gates to heaven, if such a place even existed. It probably didn't, but still, she could dream. Heaven to her had now become her house, her lonely yet warm, light, comfortable house on a tree-lined suburban street filled with cars and people and movement and life.

* * *

It had been Brian who'd made the connection. He was unsure whether or not he was surprised at this. He'd half expected it to be one of Holt's team, with all their computers and databases. Brian had all that too, but that wasn't how he'd made the link. No, he'd used that freakishly brilliant memory of his yet again. Neither of them had forgotten the John Felsham case, how could they? It was one of their landmark cases. It hadn't earned them many supporters within the Met at the time, but they were used to that. Somehow, Brian had remembered a passing comment made by Strickland at the pub after they'd solved the case, something like _"I've taken men like Felsham down before. They usually have accomplices, but they hide themselves well. I'll look into it."_ Nothing else had been mentioned about it since then, but it had struck Brian as odd, being the only sober member of the group at the time. He'd looked into Strickland's service record on a whim, and lo and behold, Strickland had indeed been the arresting officer in the early noughties when Hartnell was suspended on corruption charges. Jack hadn't understood what Brian was suggesting at first. As usual, it took a bit of mental gymnastics to follow, and even then it seemed a farfetched suggestion. He desperately hoped that it wasn't true, but he couldn't deny that it seemed to check out. Even now, as he lied awake in the middle of the night thinking about it, it was making more and more sense. He turned over restlessly, attempting to at least get a couple of hours sleep. Steadily he was beginning to drop off, practically having to fight against his alert mind. Suddenly, the phone began to ring, its shrill noise filling the otherwise silent house. He picked up the phone which he had placed on his bedside table in case of such an event. By now, he had stopped fearing the worst, accepting the fact that if the kidnappers wanted them dead, they would have done it by now. It had been almost a week.

"Halford?"

"Jack, it's me," Brian's northern accent sounded through the phone. He sounded like he was onto something.

"What have you got?"

"Felsham's computer, complete with hard drive and the works, it's-"

Jack cut him off mid-sentence. "How the bloody hell did you get hold of that? It must have still been classed as evidence, you can't just take it out of the storeroom without permission, surely?"

"Ways and means, Jack, ways and means. You won't be complaining when you find out what's on it Jack, seriously." Brian still sounded suspiciously happy, it had to be something good. Mind you, when it came to Brian, you could never be certain of anything.

"What is it, Brian?" he asked, growing increasingly curious by the second.

"I've managed to hack into his email account, I've found some emails between him and Hartnell, which definitely prove they were working together. He'd deleted them of course, he wasn't that stupid, but I've retrieved them. Listen to this one, dated 2001: _'Rob Strickland is getting closer by the hour, you need to throw him off the scent. Quickly.' _Honestly, could you get more obvious?" The younger man laughed.

"Bloody hell Brian… this is huge. It definitely explains why they've been taken, Hartnell must have found out that we rumbled Felsham and planned this whole thing for revenge, he's been released from prison now. Explains why Welch was the getaway driver too, he's Hartnell's niece's husband so we wouldn't make the connection immediately. What if there's more of them involved?" Jack's mind had been thrown into turmoil once again.

"Don't you see? This means we're closer to finding them than ever. Just focus on that for now mate. Once we've found them, we can sort everything else out." Brian's voice has altered to a more serious tone, yet he was still optimistic, unusually.

He would be relying on his friend's optimism to keep him going. He had a feeling that the whole situation was about to turn nasty.

_**A/N: I know this all seems ridiculous, sorry. I need to get it finished soon or it'll never get completed. Still, Merry Christmas to all you New Tricksters out there, here's to another wonderful year! Eden x**_


	9. Solace

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, the stark lighting of the ladies' bathroom making her squint a little. By all accounts, she appeared healthy. She did, to some extent. The wound on her head had healed well, her skin was no longer pallid with the lack of sunlight, her hair had returned to its usual golden glow. To everyone who didn't know her, she looked normal. But they had no idea where to look to spot the signs.

The dark circles surrounding her bright blue eyes had been artistically covered with her experienced application of make-up. She'd been keeping her hands covered under her leather gloves or in her pockets during the day, to hide her nails which she'd bitten down to the point of bleeding. Her hair was pinned back to mask her brown roots, which she couldn't be bothered going to the salon to have dyed. In short, she was inwardly falling to pieces.

She sighed, mentally scalding herself for the thousandth time to pull herself together. She took one last look at her reflection before returning into the crowded restaurant, weaving her way through the crowd to the table she'd left minutes before. That was specifically why they'd chosen this place; it was always busy. None of them could stand quiet places anymore, or at least not yet. It had only been three weeks, after all. She finally reached the table, sitting down with a false smile directed at her two companions to alleviate any concerns they might have had at her long absence.

"You okay?" Gerry asked.

"Yeah, fine." She replied, a second too quickly. They both eyed her suspiciously, as if to say 'who are you trying to fool?' She didn't blame them. The only person she was fooling was herself. "Haven't they been with the wine yet? Should I ask them where it is?"

"Here it comes now," Rob nodded his head, indicating the young waiter approaching behind her with a bottle of white wine and three glasses.

They all smiled politely as the wine was poured out for each of them. That was all she'd been doing for the past few weeks; smiling politely. Even at the people who knew it was just a façade. For a few minutes, they all sat in companionable silence, drinking their wine. Their silent table felt like a lonely island in the middle of a tumultuous sea of chatter and laughter. Finally, it was Rob who broke the spell, slamming his glass down on the table.

"Can someone talk? Please. Anything. The weather. The wine. The music. Anything." He put his head in his hands, guilty at his outburst. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound so snappy, I just get sick of the silence, it reminds me of…you know."

"It's okay, mate. If you hadn't beaten me to it, I'd have said something." Gerry said gently, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder reassuringly. That was one positive, she thought, if any could be found in this mess. The three of them were now closer than ever. Differences didn't matter anymore. Just getting through everyday life was difficult enough.

"Me too," she added, smiling a rare genuine smile at Rob. "Do you think they'll set the date sooner or later?"

"Hopefully sooner." Gerry interjected quickly. "I just want to get this whole thing over and done with now, I can't take much more of this."

"Hmm. You know what the courts are like though, we can't expect too much." Sandra pointed out. Gary Welch had been arrested on charges of abduction before they'd been found, and eventually he'd given up their location. He wasn't the main target though, he never had been. Still, he was an accomplice, and soon enough he'd admitted to working for George Hartnell, who'd bribed him with a reward of £10,000. That had just left Jack, Brian, Holt and the team with two priorities: rescue the hostages and find Hartnell before he had chance to get away. She couldn't really remember how they'd been rescued. All Jack had told her is that they'd arrested two more of Hartnell's accomplices, the men who'd been throwing the food down the stairs on a daily basis and making sure the door was locked. Apparently Brian had told Gerry that they had been held in an old terraced house under a disused bridge in a rundown area of the city, but nothing more specific than that. It didn't matter, not really. She would never go back there as long as she lived.

As for Hartnell, it didn't take him long to realise that his hostages were missing. The morning after they'd gone, he'd gone to the house, which Jack still had under constant surveillance in case of such an event. They'd quickly arrested him, but their revenge wasn't particularly sweet. He knew that the game was up, and he'd already avenged Felsham's imprisonment by abducting two of the Met's best officers and Gerry, who was technically a civilian, for over a week. He was satisfied.

Another point on the scoreboard for Hartnell was the lasting effects their ordeal had had on the three of them. All of them had seen counsellors, therapists, psychologists, each of whom had reached the same conclusion. They had been through an incredibly traumatic experience. They were still in shock. They were still readjusting to normal life. It would take time. Even Jack and Brian recited the same empty words. That was another reason why the three of them were here tonight- they understood each other's feelings like nobody else could. Gerry knew, for example, that Sandra had rings around her eyes because she couldn't sleep properly without them both next to her. She didn't feel safe. Even if she did get a precious couple of hours rest, she woke up almost hysterical, thinking that she was still in the cellar, and that Gerry and Rob had been taken from her.

"Are you alright?" It was Rob who was the one to disturb her from her thoughts this time. She was glad that he did though. That was the role they'd all taken for one another. They reminded each other of normal life. How things would be alright, one day.

* * *

It was a year to the day since Sandra and Gerry had been taken, since she'd seen her blood spattered, deep scarlet against the white-grey gravel. They'd decided, as a group, to return to the pub where they'd been abducted from. It was the right time, for all of them. The nightmares, the therapy session, the false smiles had ended, and they needed some sort of closure.

Rob had moved house, as had Gerry. Sandra, on the other hand, had found her solace in Max, thanks to Rob's matchmaking. She was planning to start afresh with him, in France. A new life. She raised her eyes from her wine glass, smiling gently at the two men who had barely left her side over the last year, and had saved her more times than they could ever know. They were deep in conversation, talking about a classic car fair they were attending the following weekend. They caught her looking at them, pausing their conversation.

"Are you okay?" The two men asked simultaneously, chuckling as they realised.

"I'm more than alright. You do realise that a year ago you two wouldn't even have contemplated going to a classic car fair together? Your bromance has truly blossomed," she jibed, grinning at their horrified expressions.

"Oi, we ain't got a bromance, we're just good mates!" Gerry replied staunchly, his cheeks turning redder by the second.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you're locked in a room for over a week, you get to know people for who they really are." Rob added, turning a similar shade of red to Gerry.

"I dread to think what would have happened if I wasn't there. You two, alone, a bed…" she remarked, one eyebrow raised, a huge grin breaking across her face.

"Sandra!" They both yelled at the same time, making her laugh, properly laugh, for the first time in a year. She laughed until there were tears rolling down her cheeks, tears of true happiness. Her laughter became contagious, and soon her boys were laughing along with her, all three of them together. Finally, everything was truly alright again.

_**A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has stuck by this story from beginning to end. You know who you are. I have an epilogue planned as a separate story, but I doubt many people will read it because does contain a relationship. Unfortunately, that's one of the few things that sucks about this fandom.**_


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